8  

IF  HER  SON  HAD  ONLY  MARRIED,  IF  HER  LUST  HAD  NOT  MISCARRIED,    
WHO  CAN  SAY  FOR  CERTAIN  WHAT  MIGHT  NOT  HAVE  BEEN.  
IN  HER  SOMBER  WEEDS  OF  SORROW  SHE  IS  HOPEFUL  SOME  TOMORROW    
WILL  UNDO  THE  PASSION  THAT  PRODUCED  A  SIN.  
SCHICKELGRUBER!  SCHICKELGRUBER!  
YOU  WERE  BORN  A  CHILD  OF  SHAME.  
YOU  HAVE  ALWAYS  BEEN  A  BASTARD,  
EVEN  THOUGH  YOU  CHANGED  YOUR  NAME.  
CAME  THE  HEADLINES,  THEN  THE  BREADLINES,  
AS  YOUR  WILL  TO  POWER  GREW.  
SCHICKELGRUBER!  SCHICKELGRUBER!  
WHAT  A  PRETTY  HOWDY-­‐DO!  
THOUGH  A  MOTHER,  SHE  CAN  SMOTHER    
MOTHER  LOVE  AT  THOUGHT  OF  YOU.  
 
IN  HIS  YOUTH  HIS  ONE  OBSESSION  WAS  TO  PRACTICE  A  PROFESSION,    
AND  HE  DABBLED  WITH  THE  PALETTE  AND  THE  PAINT.  
BUT  THE  ART  HE  COULDN’T  MASTER,  SO  HE  WENT  FROM  PAINT  TO  PLASTER,    
AND  TODAY  HE  CALLS  HIMSELF  A  PLASTER  SAINT.  
IS  HE  GOOD  OR  EVIL  FAIRY?  ALL  HIS  FRIENDS  HAVE  NOW  GROWN  WARY,    
THAT  IS  THOSE  OF  THEM  THAT  DIDN’T  RATE  THE  PURGE.  
AND  THE  SCENT  WILL  EVER  LINGER,  HOW  HE  GAVE  HIS  FRIENDS  THE  FINGER    
JUST  TO  GRATIFY  AND  CULMINATE  AN  URGE.  
SCHICKELGRUBER!  SCHICKELGRUBER!  
ONCE  THE  DEW  WAS  ON  THE  ROSE.  
WHERE  YOU’LL  END  UP  IN  THE  WIND-­‐UP,    
SCHICKELGRUBER,  HEAVEN  KNOWS.  
EVER  RUTHLESS,  EVER  TRUTHLESS,  
WHEN  THE  JUDGMENT  DAY  IS  DUE,    
REPERCUSSIONS  FROM  THE  RUSSIANS,    
SCHICKELGRUBER,  SAY  YOU’RE  THROUGH.    
EVERY  VILLAGE  THAT  YOU  PILLAGE  
IN  REVENGE  WILL  TURN  ON  YOU.  
 
GREG   There   is   a   woman   at   the   beginning   of   all   great   things.   There   was   in   my   life.   My  
Lenya.  My  beloved.  My  wife.    
 
And   then   there   were   …   the   others.   I   had   other   women   and   she   had   other   men   …  
and  women.    (quoting)  “Who  does  not  love  wine,  women,  and  song/Remains  a  fool  
his  whole  life  long.”    
 
When   women   love   us,   they   forgive   us   everything,   even   our   crimes;   when   they   do  
not  love  us,  they  give  us  credit  for  nothing,  not  even  our  virtues.    
 
And  the  trouble  with  life  is  that  there  are  so  many  beautiful  women  …  and  so  little  
time.  
 
Section  Two:  Weill,  Women  and  Song